Love Letter to my Sister

(First view of the sun and France driving off the ferry in the port of Cherbourg)

I left you last time as we drove out of the port as the sun was rising. (Isn’t that the words of a song?) We had no plan but my intention to REST was getting a bit clearer and I suggested we stop at the big supermarket 20 minutes down the road south. There we could get food supplies and a coffee and work out what we would do today. We were tired but the kind of tired that fools you into thinking you’re on top of the world. After all the sun was shining and we had escaped certain death on that tiny ship, right?

(We spent our first night in the town of Saint Mére Eglise)

The supermarket wasn’t open when we arrived so we tidied up a bit and made a shopping list. We were second in the door at 8.35am and made straight for the cafe. Ok it was only a supermarket cafe but it was a French supermarket cafe with French coffee in France. What more could we ask for? Nothing. The lady was very kind and pretended she understood my French but checked in perfect English to confirm.

(Temptation at every Boulangerie…)

I had finally remembered that the closest to a one shot Americano (my preferred coffee at home) is called Cafe Allongé. Here, all coffee is assumed to be one shot unless you ask for double. And it’s always served in a small cup. They do have larger sizes in tourist areas but that’s really and truly just for the tourists. Watching the French drink coffee is like watching someone take a shot of Wheatgrass. It’s a medicine and one shot is enough. Extra hot water just dilutes it - good for a longer conversation but unnecessary.

(Historic tours come to visit the square by the church of Saint Mére Eglise every day. Can you see the parachute on the tower? A US paratrooper got stuck here on D-Day 1944 when the allies were liberating France. He survived.)

The first time we were in Paris at a neighbourhood cafe/bar in the evening, it was late and dark. We had been out to dinner and wanted a post dinner digestif - or probably just a beer, this was before I stopped drinking alcohol. I was fascinated by a man in his forties I guessed, who parked his car and didn’t even lock it. He walked into the bar and up to the counter, said something to the bartender and an espresso in a teeny tiny cup on a teeny tiny saucer arrived. He paid, knocked back the coffee, turned around and got back into his car. I wondered how he would get to sleep but maybe he wanted to stay awake. If he had ordered a whiskey shot I would have been less surprised. I think that says more about me and being Irish than it does about him…

(Breakfast outside, coats on…)

Anyways, there we were in the supermarket cafe enjoying our coffee and our first French croissants of the trip… and I remembered I had forgotten my promise to my sister.

My sister was born when I was 9 years old. I saw her as a baby, a toddler, a little girl, a teenager and since she left school, as an adult. I have loved every stage and age. (Ok I was irritated when as a little one she wanted to go everywhere with me and my friends but I got over that!) I didn’t know growing up that she looked up to me but she told me years later and told me about the gifts I had brought her (mainly sweets!) Her version of me is lovely and in her eyes, at least, I live up to it. She has moved around a lot in her short (relatively speaking!) life and we sometimes find ourselves far away from each other and it hurts.

(We can’t park everywhere but fortunately we can usually park somewhere…)

So last trip away, we started a tradition - morning videos. Whatever either of us is doing and however dishevelled we are looking, we stop for a moment in the morning, turn on the video and say hello for less than a minute. If I’ve had coffee I usually ramble on longer but all that’s required of the tradition is a moment in time. At the end we say I love you - every time. And we mean it.

(It’s a sign!)

In Ireland in the 60’s and 70’s the words “I love you” hadn’t been invented yet. You might hear them in a movie said by American actors but you certainly didn’t hear them said in real life. When our Dad died in 2001 I got the call in the middle of the night from our Mam. Although Dad was in hospital we had no warning that his end was near plus it was his birthday, no one dies on their birthday. I rang my sister and before the call ended I had said I love you and so had she. We haven’t stopped since. So I guess that’s a tradition too.

In the supermarket cafe I remembered I had forgotten and took up my phone.

Mairead x